


the thrum of electricity

by koedeza



Series: post episodes [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Coda, Episode: s13e21 Beat the Devil, Episode: s14e08 Byzantium, Gen, powers!Sam, psychic!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koedeza/pseuds/koedeza
Summary: Sam doesn't use an ax to cut down trees. He doesn't use a machete to kill vampires either.





	1. 14.08

**Author's Note:**

> a lil au compilation of sam with his powers again, probably mostly codas

Tires squeal as the truck comes to stop, car doors opening and slamming shut as Dean and Castiel get out.

Sam sits like a little kid, knees drawn up to his chest, chin down and hair falling to the sides of his eyes. It looks wrong. His brother, this 6’4 man, and Dean can only count on one hand the amount of times Sam’s drawn into himself and looked like this. So his reaction, naturally, isn’t going to be good.

“Tell me you didn’t make a deal!” Dean shouts, rushing forward, meeting Sam as he stands. Instinct takes over and he checks Sam for something, anything that might point to him doing something incredibly reckless. There’s splinters of wood in Sam’s hair, minute scratches on his cheeks and forearms, tiny little tributaries of blood. His eyes catch on the way his hands tremble and shake, like there’s raw energy pulsing through them.

“No, Dean I wasn’t- Of course I didn’t-“ Sam stutters his way through the sentence and his eyes flick to the forest. Dean follows them.

Oh.

There’s an ax abandoned on the side of the road and Dean doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing.

The Impala illuminates the splintering of the trees, the grotesque way they look like they’ve been struck by lightning, the slivers of wood littered on the forest floor, the Implosion of everything like a bomb in the night.

Oh.

“Sammy?”

Dean understands anger and frustration better than anyone, can pocket it and use for it later, control it like the slow-closing of a vise. Sam doesn’t do that.

“I didn’t mean to.” Sam wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, fixes a stare on the ground. “I wanted to build a pyre for Jack, one second I had the ax in my hand and then the next all the trees just-“.

Dean feels Castiel lingering behind him, hands possibly held out in some sort of surrender, eyes switching between the trees and Sam.

“I know you didn’t but-“ He wants to ask, wants an explanation. He thought they left this years behind, thought it was done with the boy with his knife and the yellow-eyed demon. After Sam got up from that blood-stained mattress Dean didn’t think he’d see it ever again.

Now Sam gets grief as a weapon.

“This hasn’t happened since Cold Oak, I was just scared,” Sam whispers and meets Dean’s eyes with glassy ones, ones that are filled with worry and confusion and fear.

He thinks they mirror his own.


	2. 13.21

_woosh woosh woosh_.

He shoots up with a gasp. The fan above him circles lazily and his eyes can only blink rapidly as they adjust to the hazy light. Sam reaches a hand up to his neck and pats down clumsily, feeling fabric that’s saturated with blood and skin that should be torn to shreds. 

_Oh, god._  

He feels around the ground, looking for anything that might light up the dark tunnels of the mines, finally focusing on the weak green light coming from the glow-stick at his chest. Something’s wrong. He’s alive, and his heart is pounding too quick, and every time he moves his head feels like it’s being split open then sewn back together again. Something is so very wrong.

Shakily, legs wobbling like a bobble head, he goes from a crouch to a slight squat, breathing in and out. With every second that passes the smell of blood and rot is harder and harder to ignore. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, and he doesn’t know what it is. He pats his neck again, grabs the stick hanging on the string and does a slow spin, illuminating the tunnel. 

_Oh, god_.

There are bodies, everywhere. The vampire hybrids lay dead, most of them missing limbs or heads, blood splattered on every wall and inch of the ground. He looks down and sees most of what he’s wearing isn’t even his own blood. When his boot shifts, a squelching sound meets his ears. He thinks he’s stepping on someone’s face. 

“Samuel, Samuel,  _Samuel.”_ Lucifer sing-songs. Sam doesn’t dare turn around. He wasn’t there before, but Sam could hear that voice through water and the earth and he would still recognize it grating his ears. No wonder he’s breathing. God fucking dammit, no wonder he isn’t in The Empty.

“What did you do?” Sam shudders, risking a glance at the Devil’s red ruby eyes. “Why did you kill all of them?”

“Oh-  _Oh_. That’s cute.” Lucifer whispers. Something’s so fucking wrong, because Sam knows better than anyone that Lucifer does not whisper, does not speak soft. “You think  _I_  did this?” 

“No, Sammy, I didn’t touch these monsters. This?” The Devil gestures to the carnage in the mine. “This was all  _you.”_

_Oh, god._

**Author's Note:**

> this is for u, goons.  
> on tumblr @koedeza


End file.
